Naruto: The Outsider's Resolve: CH_206

It had been around an hour since the Evacuation Unit’s members capable of chakra masking had initially descended into the pit to evacuate the dormitory. His training sessions were always longer than an hour—but he hadn’t felt more exhausted than he was at the current moment. Even the assassination attempt on his life was more overwhelming than exhausting.

Takuma wanted nothing more than to stop moving, but that wasn’t an option.

It had been a little over ten minutes before since he had caused a cave-in that eliminated the enemy iryo-nin. That didn’t end the battle, but it did push Camp Banana up to a clear advantage.

He had to region the battle at the bottom of the pit after bombing the mine. The feeling of frustration that the enemy didn’t opt to cut their losses and run away bubbled inside him. But simultaneously, as he looked around the pit, he couldn’t understand why they couldn’t run. The escape route towards the enemy-occupied territory was ‘blocked’ by jonin duking it out against each other. Anko had told him that Jonin Shirakumo was fighting two jonin in that part of the pit—and that he was successful in killing one of them.

However, Takuma felt a strange relief as he stared at the battlefield. Through the lingering smoke and bright fires, he could see much more Hidden Steam gear than Hidden Frost. Camp Banana had won the fight as long as Toridasu and Shirakumo didn’t die.

He could also see the dead on the ground. He had to be on the lookout for them not to trip and inadvertently get killed. Takuma didn’t have the mental capacity to contemplate the sheer loss of life from the battle—he was sure it would linger in his thoughts, and disturb his nights when he had the chance to rest.

A group of Camp Banana shinobi surrounded two enemy shinobi, and Takuma lifted his heavy feet to join them. They didn’t have any orders to accept surrender.

A horn blared across the battlefield. It brought a short burst of energy through Takuma. The horn was a signal that they had won and successfully occupied the Gojiro gold mines. There were enemies still alive, but the horn meant that the jonin had defeated their counterparts.

Takuma let his shoulder relax as he approached the group cornering the two enemies glued to each other’s backs for protection.

“Surrender,” Takuma straightened himself as he spoke. Everyone— ally or enemy— turned towards Takuma as he continued to talk. “You either die here and now, or live another day to potentially be traded back to your nation in exchange for our own imprisoned in yours. And if you cooperate, your stay will be as comfortable as possible in your situation.

“Choose now, or be prepared to have your last breath,” he said authoritatively.

The Camp Banana people looked utterly confused, but they held their tongues. Takuma kept his eyes on the two enemies, who looked suspicious—but Takuma knew they were exhausted enough not to notice the confusion around them.

Takuma sighed. He turned to the kunoichi beside him. “Will you lend me your dagger? I misplaced mine in the battle.”

The kunoichi was surprised but unsheathed the dagger strapped to her lower back and handed it to Takuma.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” said Takuma as he stepped towards the two.

“Wait!” shouted one of the two enemies. “We will surrender!”

The second one wasn’t as thrilled. “What are you doing!?” he hissed.

“Shut up!” The first one turned to Takuma. “We surrender. Please, spare us. We will surrender. We will, so…” he licked his tongue and looked at Takuma with hope and desperation.

“Drop your weapons and lay down on your stomach with your hands on your head. We will apply the chakra seals and then take you in,” said Takuma.

The second, unwilling shinobi looked suspicious but was quickly persuaded to surrender. They both threw their weapons and pouches away before lying on the ground with their hands behind their heads.

Takuma alone approached the two. “You made the right choice,” he said.

Takuma first approached the unwilling enemy and put a knee on his back. Takuma pulled the man’s hands from his hands, grabbed his hair, pulled the head up, and quickly slit the throat and simultaneously, snapped the neck of the man, who didn’t have any time to resist. Takuma knew he didn’t have time, so he quickly shuffled to the man who had readily surrendered.

“W-What. Y-You said—!”

The voice of the dying comrade alerted the man, and he immediately tried to get away, but Takuma kicked him in the face.

“No, please! I b-beg…”

Takuma mounted the man, grabbed the man’s resisting arm with his free hand, and quicky dug the dagger deep into the man’s heart twice. The man flailed for a moment a few moments before the resistance failed. Takuma gazed into the dying man’s eyes until the light was lost, keeping the man company in his last moments. He wiped the blood of the dagger with the dead man’s pants. He got up and returned the dagger to its owner.

“Thank you,” said Takuma.

Everyone in the small group looked at Takuma with a variety of emotions, from surprise and shock to admiration and fear.

———

.

After the battle ended, everyone was called to gather in the middle of the pit. Takuma slowly wandered around the crowd, looking for his team. Camp Banana had come with fourteen teams—two jonin, fourteen chunin, and seventy genin—but the group seemed thin now after the battle. They outnumbered a couple of chunin and a dozen or so genin, and while they had wiped out the enemy, they had paid the price in lives.

Takuma stopped in his tracks when he saw three of the four people who he called his teammates. His heart beat faster as he approached the group.

“Where… Where is Iori?” he asked.

Kameko, Rikku, and Daiki turned to face Takuma. Daiki stepped forward and hugged him with one of his arms. Takuma patted the big guy on his back.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” said Daiki.

“Iori?” Takuma asked again.

“She’s with the iryo-nin,” said Daiki, his expression unpleasant.

Takuma gulped. “I-Is it serious?”

Daiki looked like he didn’t know how to answer the question. “Her life is not in danger” — Takuma breathed a sigh of relief — “but two of her fingers of writing hand were severed…. They’re trying to reattach them right now. The iryo-nin aren’t sure if it will work.”

Takuma gasped. As a fuin-nin, Iori’s hands were extremely important to her. Accurate calligraphy was an essential part of fuin-nin, and losing one’s fingers would make limit their options and scope in the field, putting a huge handicap on their progress.

“…She could switch to her other hand, but that doesn’t sound good, does it,” Daiki said.

Takuma nodded. He didn’t know how much time and effort it would entail to switch to a different hand.

He gave the three in front of him a look over. Kameko looked ragged but mostly uninjured. Rikku had a bandage around her head and right leg, and her left arm in a sling. Daiki had a limp that he tried to hide, and he had only hugged Takuma with one arm—it seemed there was something wrong with his shoulder.

“Anko is upfront with the jonin,” said Kameko.

Takuma nodded. “Does anyone have some water,” he asked.

Rikku threw her canteen to him with a small gulp of water that Takuma downed.

“Thank you.”

He looked around the pit and the bodies of those who had died fighting for either side. Takuma opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the words died as he couldn’t think of anything that would suit the current situation.

He said something else. “It’s always numbered, isn’t it.” They looked at him. “When I was in the Hidden Leaf, they only mentioned the number of causalities. ‘Fourteen perished, three found dead, ten killed in action.’ They rarely mention names—not unless it’s a jonin or someone important. Newspapers don’t have enough space, radios not enough time.

“Even if they do mention names, do we remember them? I don’t. And with these numbers, the names won’t show up except the official documents and reports.” He turned towards his teammates. “That’s why let’s make sure they get the most honorable shinobi funeral for them in the hopes that if this happens to us, we will get the same treatment.”

The three of them nodded.

Anko met with them a few minutes later after her brief discussion with the jonin. She looked better than all of them, having no injuries on her. But there was a burden that weighed her usual laidback vibe.

“One of the enemy jonin, the one Toridasu was fighting, decided to escape. The two Shirakumo fought are both confirmed dead,” she said, informing of the larger picture of the battle. “There might be some enemies hiding in the mines, so be careful—but with most dead, they aren’t a priority problem. Everyone who can still move around will work on the funeral—after which we will proceed to the bombing this place.”

““Yes, ma’am””

“All of you did good.” Anko looked at Kameko and Takuma. “Especially both of you. The jonin will want to talk to you after we return to camp.” Her eyes lingered on Takuma as she gave out the praise. “Now, let’s go meet Iori together.”

““Yes, ma’am””

———

.

Takuma gazed at the dozens of burning funeral pyres burning before him. The deceased shinobi were recorded thrice to ensure everyone was included, and their belongings, if available, were carefully packaged to be sent to the families. They were cleaned and prepared for their funeral and then respectfully placed on the funeral pyres that had deforested a small chunk of the nearby forestry.

The Hidden Leaf shinobi went first. The enemy were also given funerals, but they weren’t treated the same. They weren’t cleaned and were pushed into larger group pyres, while the Hidden Leaf shinobi were all given their own individual pyres.

“Were you close to anyone?” Takuma asked Iori, standing beside him.

Her hand was heavily bandaged. The iryo-nin could attach her fingers back, but how well they could do the job would be known with time as it properly healed and if they worked for Iori when she passed physical rehabilitation.

“I could recognize all of them. I knew a few of them,” Iori answered, fire reflecting in her eyes. “I… I haven’t seen anything like this. T-This is too many…”

She was the most social member of their team, and she was well-liked despite being on Anko’s team.

Takuma gave her a side hug to offer her comfort. She had been too occupied by her own uncertain future, and it was for the first time in the last few hours that she had snapped out of those worries, only to have the reality of the death of her friends and peers shoved in her face.

As he comforted her, Takuma stared at the funeral pyres. He didn’t feel much in the face of so much death. He had only been part of a shinobi’s funeral once, and he was the only attendee and looking back on it, Takuma recognized the shift in his reaction to it all, even when the scale of the two events was on different levels.

He wondered what might have caused such a drastic shift. He thought that he wouldn’t get an answer out of himself, but it came surprisingly easily when he personally set fires to the larger group pyres in the distance.

Takuma was sure he would’ve hurt like Iori and the others around him in grief if he was close to the deceased. He was confident that he had that much humanity still burning alive within him. He was greatly invested in keeping that flame alive as he didn’t want to become someone who lost that essence of humanity. He was afraid that he would be perfectly fine being that person—that uncaring version who didn’t care utterly terrified him.

The cause of the difference from the past, or his current indifference, was relatively recent. This wasn’t the biggest concentration of death he had seen—the largest was the massacre of the innocent civilians who had been killed by the small group of shinobi. He was there in the middle of it, he heard the piercing screams and cries for help. That was much worse than what had happened in the pit.

That was why he didn’t feel much.

He was sure that if any of the shinobi—deceased or alive—enemy or ally—were asked to do the same, they would do it… including him. It didn’t matter if they liked it or not, or if they were just following orders, he was sure all of them would do it. Shinobi were a norm in the world, and it was their job.

The “strangers” who could do that didn’t deserve his empathy and compassion. He could kill hundreds or thousands of them, and he wouldn’t feel anything for them. They were in a profession where those ready to kill should be prepared to be killed. It didn’t matter if it was his own compatriots or a foreign enemy—every single one of them was the same.

The same went for himself.

Takuma knew that if one day he was killed, he absolutely deserved it.

In his pursuit of survival, he had made himself a man okay to kill in his own eyes.

But now wasn’t the time to contemplate on the implications of that. Right now, he had to provide comfort to his teammates and friends.

Takuma took a deep breath and gave Iori’s arm a comforting rub. He said, “I know this doesn’t change anything, but their memories will keep them alive in your thoughts. They will live in your heart.”

Iori leaned against him. “You’re a good one, Takuma,” she said.

Unlike him, she shed tears.

‘Thank you,’ Takuma thanked Iori in his heart.

At least someone liked him because he didn’t very much right now.

———

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AN: I remember writing that if given the choice of dropping out of the academy at the start to pursue a civilian life, Takuma wouldn't go the civlian route—not because of the survival aspect, but because he liked the person he had become—competent and confident.

He is still both of those things, but right now he doesn't like himself very much.